“I’m guessing she was murdered there and then dumped in here to hide the body,” the deputy informed him.
Sheriff Carter shook his head with anger. “We need to find this bastard and stop him.”
§
Half an hour later, Sheriff Carter stepped off Brant’s porch and approached his police blazer parked in the driveway. Devon hurried across the museum parking lot, crossed the lawn, and cut off the sheriff’s path to the vehicle.
“I heard you’re issuing a warrant for Brant’s arrest,” she gasped with surprise.
Sheriff Carter seemed stunned by how quickly she’d learned about the situation. “Gossip in this town certainly travels fast,” he muttered then nodded in response. “Yes, we’re going to bring him in for questioning.”
“He didn’t kill them.”
“We’re dealing with a sick man, Devon,” the sheriff announced while giving her a stern look. “If you see him, call us immediately.”
“What possible motive would he have?” she demanded and folded her arms across her chest. “He didn’t even know those women.”
“Sexual frustration, feelings of inadequacies, rejection,” Sheriff Carter replied. “Paula embarrassed him at the tavern in front of several witnesses. Now she’s dead. We also found a phantom mask and cloak in a bedroom closet along with the knife he used to stab his victims.”
“Someone planted that stuff there to frame him,” Devon insisted without hesitation. “Why would he hide the phantom costume and knife in his own house, implicating himself, when he could simply return them to the museum where they could implicate just about anyone?” She shook her head in disbelief. “Come on, Sheriff. Think about it. You’re being played.”
He stared at her with surprise then shook his head. “What’s gotten into you? Why are you so defensive about him?” Sheriff Carter demanded then considered the question as his eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh, that’s right. The flowers and champagne.” He cocked his head while staring at her. “You and your boss were romantically involved.”
Devon felt her cheeks redden, but her mood turned foul as she folded her arms across her chest. “Except for his run-in with Paula, he’d never even met the other women,” she insisted. “What would he even know about the acting job, the women who auditioned for it, or Burt Danson?” She then threw her arms in the air. “The guy spent most of his time either in his museum or at his parents’ house in the city. Only ten people in town have ever even met him. Hell, even Ivy and my own brother haven’t met him, and they pick me up and drop me off just about every day. You expect me to believe a guy who doesn’t know anyone has a grudge against them?”
“Tell that to Marlene,” Sheriff Carter snapped in anger and pointed at the house. “We just found her body in the basement.”
Devon’s eyes widened as she placed her hand over her mouth to hold back her terrified gasp.
Sheriff Carter drew a deep breath and attempted to collect himself. “Do yourself a favor and stay out of this,” he informed her.
He walked past her, got into his blazer, and drove away. Devon watched him leave then ran trembling fingers through her hair while cursing under her breath. The coroner’s wagon pulled up just moments after the sheriff had left. It was true! They found Marlene dead in Brant’s house!
Chapter Forty-two
It was late afternoon. Devon sat on the sterile counter in the funeral home prep room alongside Ross, who leaned against the counter. They watched Tony prep the deceased, elderly client on the metal table.
“What makes you so sure your boss didn’t do it?” Tony asked as he carefully applied makeup to the dead man’s face. “As an objective party, I think it’s possible he could be a killer.” He glanced back at them. “Neither of you know him that well.”
“He’s not the killer type,” Ross insisted a little defensively.
“Neither was Norman Bates,” Tony countered in all seriousness.
“He’s not some closet psychopath,” Devon announced with frustration. “This sexual frustration theory just doesn’t come into play.”
“Be realistic, Devon. The man can’t even look a woman in the eyes,” Tony remarked. “When it came right down to it, he couldn’t even take the town slut to bed. What more proof do you need?”
Devon hesitated and drew a deep, nervous breath. “Brant and I were becoming very familiar that morning before he was attacked.”
Tony suddenly stopped and stared at her. “You and Brant?” he gasped.
“There was no reservation,” she insisted. “If it hadn’t been for Tyler interrupting, he wouldn’t have hesitated to take me right there.” She shifted uncomfortably. “He’d planned a romantic evening for us the night he was stabbed.”
Tony wiped his hands on a rag and leaned against the metal table. He was surprised and suddenly engrossed in the conversation.
“I think she’s right,” Ross remarked. “He went through a lot of trouble setting up a romantic interlude in that church display.”
“Sounds more creepy than romantic to me,” Tony muttered then turned serious. “Have they picked him up yet?”
“No one knows where he is,” Ross announced with a sigh. “His mother said they had an argument, and he walked out.”
“Kind of odd that he didn’t return to his house or the museum,” Tony remarked.
“I doubt he knew the police were looking for him. He probably went somewhere to recover from his ordeal and escape his mother,” Ross remarked. “I certainly wouldn’t be in any big hurry to return to the place where I’d been stabbed.”
Devon eyed Ross and sank into thought. A strange smile crossed her face, which she immediately hid from her friends.
“Well, I think if he’s innocent, he should turn himself in and explain the mask and knife they’d found in his house,” Tony informed them. “Finding Marlene murdered in his basement isn’t helping his case either. He has to come forward or people will assume he’s guilty. On vacation or not, if they post it in the paper that he’s wanted for questioning, he should return if he’s innocent.” Tony returned to his client.
Ross peered at the dead man then gently cleared his throat to the uncomfortable subject. “So, uh, you doing Marlene?”
“Just the prep,” Tony replied with some discomfort. “Her mother said it had always been her wish to be cremated.”
“Doesn’t this job give you the creeps?” Ross asked. “I mean, you asked Marlene out the other day, and now you’re going to be prepping her dead body.”
“They’re just people who’ve passed on,” Tony insisted then cast a look at Ross. “Creepy is displaying life-like wax bodies in scenes of horror. That museum has all the appeal of a morgue.”
“I’ll gladly take that as a compliment,” Ross replied while laughing.
“You would.”
§
Devon and Ross left the funeral home and headed into the empty parking lot. She abruptly stopped him halfway to his car. Her strange smile had returned as she stared at her friend. He noted her grin and gave her a puzzled look.
“That phone call yesterday was Brant, wasn’t it?” she demanded, mildly excited. “You told him the police were going to search his house. You warned him.”
“Be serious, Devon,” he announced while fidgeting. “I could get into a lot of trouble if I’d do something like that.”
“I’m not going to turn you in. I want to find Brant the same as you,” she announced. “I think he’s innocent too, remember? Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Ross insisted and groaned. “I didn’t want him to tell me where he intended to go. That would be aiding and abetting a fugitive.”
“You’ve done that already.”
“Acht, not technically,” Ross announced while raising a clever brow. “They had nothing to really go on when I spoke to him.”
Devon fidgeted while running her fingers through her hair. “I hope he’s all right.”
Ross stared at her and the lost look on her fa
ce. He seemed oddly serious. “You were really going to turn in your virgin card, huh?”
She drew a deep, nervous breath and forced herself to meet Ross’ gaze. “I know he’s kind of shy and maybe a little nerdy,” she remarked gently. “But something about him turns me on.”
Ross placed his arm around Devon’s shoulder and pulled her to his side while guiding her toward his car. He sighed deeply. “Yeah, he has that effect on me too,” he announced then immediately cast a look at her.
As if on cue, she glared at him. Ross smiled and chuckled.
“Come along, you slutty, dirty girl,” he announced. “We have important sleuthing to do.”
Ross released her to open the passenger side door for her. The rusted car door creaked loudly. She was about to get into the car when Ross caught her arm, stopping her. She eyed his serious look.
“You intended to get down and dirty on the church altar?” he suddenly asked. “What goes on in that place when I’m not around?”
She rolled her eyes and got into the car. He pointed a warning finger at her.
“I swear, if I ever catch you doing it with him in the torture chamber, there’s going to be hell to pay,” he boldly announced then shut the car door.
Chapter Forty-three
Dorothy sat in a plush chair before Chelsea’s wheelchair and repeatedly brushed her daughter’s golden hair. Chelsea stared off at nothing and remained emotionless, showing no sign of brain activity. Dorothy heard a strange rustling sound outside the house. She stopped and looked at the big, bay window to the darkness beyond it. She then heard a gentle breeze blowing against the shrubs outside and immediately relaxed. She resumed brushing her daughter’s hair.
“I think we’ll go with flowered barrettes tomorrow,” Dorothy informed her. “One on each side. They’ll look beautiful in your hair.”
Only a moment passed before she heard a thud from upstairs. Dorothy looked at the ceiling with a fixed stare. She set the brush down on the chair and nervously stood. Dorothy removed an old golf club from alongside her chair and approached the stairway. She looked up the stairs a moment and listened, but she didn’t hear anything. She slowly walked up the steps while clutching the golf club. A floorboard creaked beneath her feet. She immediately paused while making a face then continued to the second floor.
As she reached the top of the stairs, she saw her bedroom door gently sway. She was certain the window had been closed, so nothing should have moved the door. Dorothy hesitated a moment then cautiously approached her bedroom and looked into the dark room with her golf club firmly in her hand. She felt inside the inner wall for the light switch and turned on the light. The room suddenly brightened, almost startling her. Dorothy’s eyes immediately fell upon her queen-sized bed where Tamara’s dead body lay on top of the frilly comforter.
Tamara was covered in her own blood from a large, gaping wound to her lower abdomen. She appeared to be partially gutted, although the blood was dried and there was none on the bed. Dorothy held back her scream while shaking her head. On the wall above the bed was the word killer written in blood. Dorothy screamed at the sight, ran from the room, and thundered down the stairs. She ran into the kitchen, grabbed the phone from the wall near the counter, and pushed a button. She turned toward the kitchen doorway and darted looks around her while clenching the phone cord.
A shadow moved within the living room. Dorothy gasped while dropping the phone, clutched her golf club, and cautiously entered the living room. She didn’t see anyone except Chelsea, who sat in her chair with her usual fixed stare. Dorothy looked around the room while breathing heavily. She darted for the living room phone on the end table alongside her chair and snatched it from its base, realizing too late that she hadn’t hung up the kitchen phone.
To her surprise, there was a dial tone. She looked back at the kitchen with concern. Someone must have hung up the kitchen phone! She dropped the phone and ran for the front door. Dorothy pulled on the doorknob, but the door was still locked and bolted. She tossed her golf club aside and fumbled with the lock and deadbolt. A floorboard creaked behind her.
Dorothy whirled around to the somehow terrifying sound. The phantom stood before her, his eyes piercing into hers. Her eyes widened as she screamed hysterically. The large knife thrust forward, stabbing her in the throat to silence her scream. The bloody knife was fiercely pulled back allowing blood to streak across the wall. She clutched her bleeding throat while gasping. Chelsea remained immobile in her chair with her usual fixed stare, unaware of what was happening. Dorothy attempted to scream while spitting up blood. The phantom slammed her against the door to keep her from falling as he repeatedly and violently thrust the dagger into her abdomen.
The phantom continued to stab her in her abdomen over and over until she finally slipped from his hand and slid down the door, collapsing in a bloody heap on the floor. There was blood strewn across the entire foyer from the brutal assault. The room fell silent except for the clock ticking on the wall. Chelsie sat in her chair staring at nothing, unaware of the vicious attack that had just ended her mother’s life. The phantom, covered in Dorothy’s blood, approached her in her chair and stared at her with the bloodied dagger still clutched in his gloved hand. With his left gloved hand, he gently touched her cheek, leaving a small bloody streak on her face. Her eyes lifted possibly for the first time in seven years.
§
The following morning, police blazers blocked the driveway to Dorothy’s house and yellow police tape roped off the front yard. Several townspeople gathered by the tape and strained to see what had happened. Low murmurs came from the crowd. Within the house, a photographer took photos of Dorothy lying on the floor in a bloody heap. There were dozens of stab wounds to her body surrounded by her own blood. Sheriff Carter stood in the corner of the living room near the plush chair and stared down with an angered look on his stern face. Deputy Havens walked down the stairs while scratching his head. He wore a slightly sickened look as he approached the sheriff, who still hadn’t moved.
“The coroner is convinced Tamara died the same day she went missing,” Deputy Havens informed him then shook his head. “The girl’s been dead a week. Someone kept her body stashed somewhere all this time just to put it in Dorothy’s bedroom. This is insane.”
The sheriff didn’t take his eyes away from the corner and maintained his stare at Chelsea’s empty wheelchair lying on its side. His anger had reached its boiling point while he kept his back to Deputy Havens.
“I don’t care how you do it, Havens,” Sheriff Carter launched in a low, cold tone. “Even if you have to search every house in this damned town, I want Chelsea found.”
“Yes, sir.”
§
The following afternoon, Ross and Devon sat inside the funeral home parlor while reading the morning paper. Ross shook his head and muttered something. The parlor doors opened startling both.
Tony entered looking mildly disturbed and eyed his friends. “Sorry I’ve kept you waiting so long,” he announced although he was clearly distracted.
“They still haven’t found Chelsea,” Ross informed him with noted hostility. “How could anyone possibly harm a girl in her condition?”
“I think it’s sick,” Tony launched and immediately fidgeted. “I’m afraid I’ve kept you waiting for nothing. I have to run over to Dorothy’s place and get another dress. Her sister called and changed her mind again. The funeral’s tomorrow night and no one from the family can pick up the dress.”
“They’re certainly in a hurry to plant the old girl,” Ross remarked. “Didn’t the police just release the body this morning?”
Tony nodded and appeared frustrated by the entire situation. “The killer certainly left a mess,” he announced while exhaling a shaken breath. “Embalming her was a nightmare. Thankfully, there was no damage to her face, so they can still have an open casket.” Tony attempted to collect himself. “Her sister’s family is leaving the day after tomorrow for a month-long tour of Europe. They
opted to have the funeral right away, so they wouldn’t have to postpone their trip.”
“How compassionate of them,” Ross muttered.
“You’re going to Dorothy’s place?” Devon asked while giving him a curious look.
“Yeah,” Tony replied with a sigh. “I find it a little unsettling after what happened. They just took down the police line.”
Devon and Ross eagerly stood.
“We’ll come with you,” Devon announced a little too quickly.
Ross nodded without hesitation.
“You will?” Tony asked with surprise then suspiciously eyed them. “Why?”
“We just want to have a look around,” Devon announced while attempting to act casual.
Ross nodded again.
“You mean snoop,” Tony remarked with a huff then sighed while throwing his arms in the air. “All right. I’d rather not go there alone anyway. Just don’t do anything that will get me into trouble.”
Chapter Forty-four
Tony led Ross and Devon into Dorothy’s house through the garage door, which led into the kitchen. The front door remained sealed, even though the coroner had finished his investigation. Devon wondered why the front door remained sealed if they were finished. They followed Tony into the living room. All three immediately stopped when they saw the foyer area strewn with blood. There was blood spattered on the walls, pooled on the floor, and streaked down the door. Since no one was living in the house, the crime scene cleanup crew hadn’t been through yet.
Devon immediately clutched Ross’ arm while staring at the grisly scene. Ross clutched her hand nearly tight enough to cut off her circulation. He was possibly more horrified than she was. Tony ran his fingers through his hair, drew a deep breath, and then led them to the stairs, which took them closer to the spilled and spattered blood. Devon and Ross clung to each other as they neared the mess by the door.
The Deadliest Institution Collection Page 61
